From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [386]
Francis the Indiana farmboy screamed with just as much surprise as if he had not been expecting it, like a man who had been shot by a sniper he didnt see. If there was any sound of bone breaking, the scream smothered it. He stayed on his knees a few seconds, looking whitefaced and faint, then he got up and came over to show it to them. In the middle of his forearm where the line should have run straight there was a kind of square-cornered offset. In the few seconds it took him to cross the five yards it had already started to swell. As they watched it, it swelled until the recessed part of the offset was filled out level again and there was only a big bulge on the bottom.
“I think its broke in two places,” Francis said happily. “Hell, that ought to get me at least three whole weeks. Maybe more.” He broke off strangledly and got down on his knees, holding his left arm gingerly with his right, and vomited.
“Boy, it sure hurts,” he said proudly, getting back up. “I sure didnt think it would hurt that much,” he said, with the same astounded surprise that had been in his scream. “Thanks a hell of a lot, Berry.”
“Think nothing of it,” Berry grinned. “Glad to help out.”
“Well, I think I’ll go on down and show this to the guard,” Francis said happily. “See you guys later.” He went off down the hill still holding his left arm gingerly with his right.
“Jesus!” Prew said, feeling an unusually cool trickle of sweat down his back.
“Man, he can have it,” Jackson said. “I dont want any of that. Not even if it would get me clear out of the Stockade.”
“What the hell?” Berry grinned. “You hear about criminals operatin on themself all a time to get bullets out. Thats lots worse than this.”
“I never heard about it anywheres outside of the movies,” Prew said.
“Me neither,” Jackson said. “I never seen it.”
“Hell, it was easy,” Berry grinned at them. “There wasnt nothing to it.”
Between hammerswings they watched the guard on the road make a call in from the box while the Indiana farmboy stood beside him happily, holding his left arm gingerly in his right. Then pretty soon the truck came up for him and he climbed in the back, still holding his left arm gingerly in his right.
“See?” Berry said. “Easy as pie. Hell, I got a goddam good notion to do it myself.”
“If two guys showed up with broken arms, they’d sure as hell suspect something then,” Prew said.
“I know it,” Berry grinned wolfishly. “Thats why I aint. But thats about the only goddam reason.”
That evening when they came in from work they learned that Francis Murdock the Indiana farmboy was already in the prison ward with a certified broken arm from a fall on the rockpile. It was, however, only broken in one place, instead of two as he had hoped.
Nothing was said about it and no questions were asked and it appeared as if it had all gone off like clockwork. Evening chow went off just as usual.
But after chow, shortly before lights out, Fatso and Major Thompson himself came into Number Two with the grub hoe handles and looking madder than hell.
It was almost like an inspection. They lined them up at attention by their bunks and the two riot-gunned guards stood just inside with the third guard standing outside holding the key to the locked door. Major Thompson looked as if he had just caught his wife in bed with a private.
“Young Murdock broke his arm out on the rockpile this afternoon,” the Major said crisply. “He claimed it was broke by a fall. He went to the hospital with that disposition because we like to keep our fights in the family here. But just between us, somebody broke that arm for him. Murdock and the man who broke it for him are both guilty of malingering. We do not tolerate malingering in this Stockade. Murdock’s sentence is going to be lengthened, and when he comes back from the hospital he’s going to find